


Dancing In The Dark

by SimplyEssa



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Blood, Crying, Fluff, Hairless Keith (Voltron), Kissing, Little bit of blood, M/M, Protective Lance (Voltron), Red Is The Best Cat, Tears, Trans Keith (Voltron), Whump, but theres still a warning, i gave y’all a happy ending what more do you want from me, i will make hat a tag if it’s the lasted thing i do, it doesn’t fet far so then bolded tag isn’t needed, i’m a dirty sinner, keith can’t afford testosterones OKAY, scared keith, ummm - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-04-07 04:32:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14072955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SimplyEssa/pseuds/SimplyEssa
Summary: “Rolo, let go.””C’mon, baby,” The man in question slurs, reaching out clumsily with his free hand to grab Keith’s other hand. Keith moves it out of the way with ease, narrowing his glare.“I said-“”Baby,” Rolo says, a grin on his face. He steps forward, into Keith’s personal bubble. Keith tenses, something that flies over Rolo’s head. “Just a lil’-“”Let go of me!”





	Dancing In The Dark

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
> there IS attempted rape in this, but the furthest it goes is the underwear coming off, i swear
> 
> good luck

“Rolo, let go.”

”C’mon, baby,” The man in question slurs, reaching out clumsily with his free hand to grab Keith’s other hand. Keith moves it out of the way with ease, narrowing his glare.

“I said-“

”Baby,” Rolo says, a grin on his face. He steps forward, into Keith’s personal bubble. Keith tenses, something that flies over Rolo’s head. “Just a lil’-“

”Let go of me!”

”C’mon, baby,” He whines, stepping close enough that their chests press against each other when they breathe, “You know you wan’ th-“

”I don’t fucking want this!” Keith spits, trying and failing, yet again, to remove himself from Rolo’s grip. The club around them is oblivious, lights flashing at random intervals and music louder than both of their yells combined; so loud it vibrates Keith’s teeth. “You know that, Rolo! I turned you down in class!”

”You were jus’ embar- ember- bark-“ Rolo’s eyebrows furrow as he tries to stutter out the right word. Keith takes the moment of distraction to stomp on Rolo’s foot, to which Rolo yelps, and effectively rips himself from Rolo’s grasp.

Rolo tries to grab his shoulder and follow him with wobbly legs, but Keith, pissed beyond all hell (and actually a little scared, though he’d never admit it- He’s not even that scared, anyways. He could take on Rolo any day), throws a punch at him.

Rolo cries out, cradling his cheek, as Keith scowls at him once more and makes his way through the tight crowds, back to where he and his friends, boyfriend, even (the word still makes his nerves tingle and stomach flutter), were sitting in a corner booth.

He’s greeted with a sober Hunk and Allura, a tipsy Shiro, and a smashed Pidge. Lance, however, is nowhere in sight. He frowns.

”Where’s Lance?” He asks, though it sounds more like yelling to his ringing ears, and hopes they can hear him over the music.

Allura says something, maybe, he can’t actually hear her. Her mouth moves and he tries to make out the words, but he can’t, not with all of the long words and in the near dark corner of the club..

He must’ve pulled a face, because Allura sighs, shakes her head, and points to the door, mouthing the word ‘air’, slowly.

Which meant Lance was getting overwhelmed with the smell of alcohol and drugs and went outside to get some air.

As much as Lance liked to claim that he was the party animal of their group, he got just as overwhelmed as Keith did in crowds, maybe even more, but not because of the people.

Lance didn’t mind talking to strangers in the street, or drunken idiots at a bar. What he did mind, however, was the intoxicating smell of heavy alcohol and drugs filling the place because those things could kill someone. He never went to clubs or bars without a special occasion, and the only reason he was at a club now, was because today was Pidge’s birthday and she wanted to go to a club and get drunk, now that it was legal.

He shoves his way through the bustling crowd, not bothering to apologize when he shoves someone out of the way or bumps into them; He would be drowned out by the thumping beat anyways.

When he gets to the door, he pauses for a moment to breathe and calm himself down (the crowd was finally starting to get to him; there were so many people, so many, so, so many-). He needs to be stabilized so he can help Lance.

Deep breaths, he reminds himself, deep breaths.

He pushes the door open, welcoming the chilly night air that assaults him.

Snow crunches under his feet as he walks on the slush, slowly melting, even with the cold air. It's April; he's not sure why there's snow in the first place.

He looks around, cupping a hand above his eyes to keep the falling snow from getting into them. He narrows his eyes in the dark night, hoping to find Lance in the dim lighting coming from the old streetlights.

The first person he sees is bent over a trash can a few feet away, gagging audible from where Keith is standing at the doors of the Voltron Club.

  
He feels a pang of sympathy for them, low in his stomach (at least, he hopes it’s sympathy, and not…)

The next person he finds is in a little group of people, four, maybe, as they laugh. They’ve formed a circle; two of them facing his direction, and the other two with their backs to him. They’re smoking something, he can’t smell it from over here, something he’s grateful for.

He looks away, taking a few steps away from the door. He takes out his phone and turns on his flashlight, giving himself more light to find Lance and bring him back inside after helping him calm down as much as he can.

Before he spots the familiar figure (if he’s even out here at all…), he hears the club door slam against the wall, and fast footsteps coming in his direction. The chance to turn around and see what’s going on is vanquished as an arm wraps around his waist and yanks him closer to whoever’s grabbed him.

“Hands off,” he mutters, fingers twitching in the need to make a fist, to punch whoever’s holding him, to fight-

“Baby, please,” They- they- fucking Rolo- “I want this. You want this-“

“Hands off!” The shout seems to startle the group by the door into silence as he glares at Rolo, trying to force the hand on his waist off, but the grip is like iron, fingers digging into his hip.

He hears more footsteps.

“Pleas-“

Keith shoves his elbow into Rolo’s stomach, hard, and rips away from his grasp in Rolo’s distraction. Rolo gasps, bending at the waist with an arm wrapped around his stomach.

Keith scowls, ignoring the people near the club’s doors, who seemed to have started watching them, and grabs a fistful of Rolo’s hair, dragging him up to his level.

Rolo’s pupils are dilated, cheeks flushed and breathing heavily, a side effect from the excess amount of alcohol in his system. He hopes.

“Leave,” He clenches his fist at his side, forcing himself to not punch Rolo in his ugly fucking face- “Me,” He pulls tighter, forcing the slimy bastard to look him in the eye, “Alone.”

He lets go of Rolo’s hair, then, letting him fall to the ground in a pathetic heap as Rolo starts to cry and gag-

Rolo pukes.

Keith jumps away with a disgusted noise, getting his feet clear from the projectile vomit that seems to be escaping Rolo’s throat.

With a final disgusted sneer, he turns around and steps away from Rolo, onto the dark street, eyes scanning the area for his boyfriend.

He can’t find him.

“Lance?” He calls out, hands cupped around his mouth. Yelling for his boyfriend in the middle of the street, 11pm at night, with a creepy gang like group behind him, may not be the best idea he’s had, but it’s the only option he can think of that isn’t wandering around aimlessly. “Where are-“

The sharp pang comes back, but instead of leaving completely, like before, it stays there, a dull throbbing in his abdomen. He frowns, looking down at his stomach as if he could see the problem, even though it’s clearly an internal issue-

His eyes widen as something wet dribbles down his inner thigh, leaving a sticky trail in its wake.

He pulls out his phone, backing closer to the bar, cringing as he feels the blood cling to his, thankfully black, jeans.

Pressing himself against the wall of the club, he opens up his message app, tapping his and Lance’s private conversation, keeping his legs pressed together as tightly as they could.

_**Me, 9:37pm:** Lance?_

_**Lance❤️, 9:37pm:** what’s up_

_**Me, 9:38pm:** I have an issue._

_**Lance❤️, 9:38pm:** is that rolo douche still bothering you?? i’ll come fight him babe_

He smiles down at his screen.

_**Me, 9:38pm:** No, I took care of him. He’s actually… puke-crying? I dunno._

_**Lance❤️, 9:39pm:** then what is of the wrong?_

A quiet bark of laughter. It makes him forget, if only for a second, that he’s pressed against a club wall, trying to limit the blood that will inevitably stain his pants.

_**Me, 9:39pm:** Do we have any spare pants in the car?_

_**Lance❤️, 9:39pm:** uhhh_

_**Lance❤️, 9:39pm:** i’ll go check_

_**Lance❤️, 9:40pm:** do you need anything else while i’m there?_

_**Me, 9:40pm:** Pads or tampons._

_**Me, 9:40pm:** Preferably tampons, please?_

**_Lance❤️, 9:41pm:_ ** _okay!! only the best for my boo <3_

_**Me, 9:41pm:** Thanks._

His cheeks hurt from smiling when he turns off his phone.

He chooses to keep his phone in his hand, instead of risking getting it wet from the blood soaked pants, even though the blood isn’t all that close to his pocket.

Sighing, he looks down at his pants. He liked these pants, especially how when he put them on and bent over, Lance would trail off into something unintelligible instead of what he was originally saying, but if he can’t get these to their washing machine fast enough, they’re going to be stained. He frowns, picking at the edge of his equally black t-shirt.

“Hey, beautiful,” someone says, startling him from his thoughts. No one’s touching him, and they don’t sound too drunk, so it’s probably not Rolo… “What’s a pretty girl like you doing out here all alone?”

His temper flares, blood boiling with anger as he looks up, glaring at the man who’s speaking to him. “I’m not a fucking girl,” he snaps, crossing his arms over his flattened chest defensively. He’s not really sure why the man assumed he’s a girl; He doesn’t look like a girl. Sure, he’s got long hair, and he’s curvier than most other men, but even without being on testosterones (he can’t afford it; his job hardly pays for rent and food), he sounds and looks pretty masculine.

“Uh huh,” The man mocks. There’s three behind him, and with a start, Keith realizes they were the group who he saw smoking earlier, when he left the club. He takes a step to the side, putting more distance between them. “And I’m the president of the United States.”

“Really?” Keith snarks, warily eyeing the small group they formed behind the man who was (and still is, unfortunately) speaking to him. The man makes up the distance by stepping closer. Keith frowns. “You don’t look like it,” he sniffs at the air, narrowing his eyes even more. “You certainly don’t smell like it.”

The man’s eye twitches.

When he doesn’t speak up for a few seconds, Keith takes another step back, fingers tightening on his phone. Him and his group comes closer, too. Keith swallows over the lump in his throat, swallowing down the feeling of fight or flight, fight or flight, fight or flight- “Listen, I really, uh, should be going-“

“Why the hurry, beautiful?” The man purrs, stepping even closer. Keith’s breathing hitched as he stays still, turning on his phone, because he needs to call Lance _right now_ -

“I-“ He swallows thickly, clearing his throat. He doesn’t understand why he’s so scared; he’s taken on the same amount of men who were bigger than the ones in front of them, and came out of it with minimal bruising (well, it wasn’t… minimal, per se. He came out with a fractured wrist, an eye so swollen he couldn’t open it, a concussion, and a cut on his leg because one of the bastards had a knife. Lance didn’t let him out of the apartment for weeks). Then again, that wasn’t at 10:00 at night, right outside of a club with Lance nowhere in sight, already anxious from the big crowd he had just been pushing through. “My- uh, boyfriend is coming to pick me up.”

He’s not exactly lying; Lance is coming, but instead of picking him up, he’s (hopefully) bringing him a pair of pants, and some tampons.

“Yeah?” The man asks, reaching out to touch his shoulder. Keith flinches violently, taking another step away, widening the distance between them even more. “Where?”

“None of your business,” He snaps, clenching his free hand into a fist. The one holding his phones tightens around it even more. “Why do you care? I don’t even know you.”

“Because,” That seems to be some key word for them, Keith realized, as the three men behind the one talking to him make a small circle around him. He backs up before one can go behind him, but the one to his left grabs his arm in a tight grip and pulls him back. “We want to see how girly you can get.”

“What?” He’s so confused, even if he has a vague idea of what they want to do, but won’t be able to because there’s no way he’s going to let that happen. Taking a step away, distancing himself as much as he can from the one holding him, he tries to rip his arm away, but a painful roll in his stomach has him faltering, breath hitching. He grits his teeth and squeezes his eyes shut, trying to breathe through the painful cramp that’s settled low in his abdomen. His cramps were always this bad; sometimes, they had him hunched over a toilet, puking even if he hadn’t eaten in days.

Another one grabs his other arm, pulling him out of his half bend, making him stand up straight. He takes a deep breath, letting his eyes flutter open as he struggles futilely against the iron grips they have on his elbow and biceps.

“Let go!” He shouts, hoping that someone, anyone, might hear him, because his cramps are almost making him paralyzed with pain, which makes him unable to fight back as well as he normally would. Maybe, if he gets a spike of adrenaline soon, he could fight them off, but he doesn’t feel it, not yet.

“Bring her into the alley,” the first man says, pointing to the alleyway between the club, where his friends remain blissfully unaware of his current dilemma, and a shitty apartment that he’s pretty sure used to be his, before he accidentally moved into the apartment across from Lance’s.

“I’m not a girl!” Despite all of the anger that’s bursting out of him, the hatred for these four men, his nerves are shaking, terrified. He’s scared and it’s reminding him of his second foster parents, and he wants to go home and back to Lance’s warm, safe arms- “Let go of me!”

“Shut up,” the one on his left growls, dragging him, with the help of his friend, into the dirty alley. A stray cat screeches as they shuffle by, skittering out of the way. The men laugh at the way the ginger cat sits on its haunches, ready to pounce and hissing.

“No! Let go-“

His wish is granted as they drag him to the deadend, shoving him to the floor and into a puddle of mud. He hardly manages to catch himself with his hands before he faceplants.

“Undress her,” The first one orders as Keith manages to get to his knees. He manages to gets to one knee before he’s shoved back down, head slamming painfully against the concrete.

He blinks hard and fast, trying to clear his vision of the black spots and spinning, “Not… not a girl,” he hisses out, gritting his teeth as he tries to sit up once more. He freezes as he feels big hands at his hips, unbuttoning his jeans.

A surge of energy bursts through him, cramps forgotten, and he kicks at the man touching him. The man cries out, falling backwards and into a pile of garbage that crunches when he lands.

“Oh, you little bitch,” one hisses as Keith gets up, fists raised in defense and glaring at the figures he can hardly make out in the dark.

“Grab her and strip her, or make her strip,” another says; the first guy, he thinks. Keith backs up as two of them move closer, the third one rising from where he fell. “Tie her up if you have to, I don’t care, just get the clothes off that hot body.”

“Don’t come near me,” Keith snaps, fight or flight, fight or flight, _fight or flight-_

_Fight._

The first one that comes to him is smirking, as if he thinks he’ll win this easy, as if he thinks Keith won’t fight back.

Well, that seems like his problem, and not Keith's.

The man doesn’t dodge, but a look of surprise crosses his face as Keith catches him in the chin, sending him back a few feet. He turns to the side and pushes away a fist thrown at him from another one of the men.  
  
The one who fell joins the one in front of him, and Keith is pushed into the defensive, taking steps back and blocking hits-

Something wraps around his chest, pinning his arms to his sides with a surprising amount of strength. Keith shouts wordlessly, struggling violently to get free.

The two in front of him grin devilishly, stepping forwards. The one on the left wipes blood from his nose from where Keith managed to land a hit, eyes glinting dangerously.

“If you want to beat her a little bit before we fuck her, go ahead,” And just like that, Keith’s terrors were confirmed.

He freezes in the man’s grip, eyes going wide. He feels his breathing hitch, and the urge to get free intensifies ten-fold.

“Let go! Let go, let go-“

One of them, he can’t tell which, throws a punch into his abdomen, the worst spot he could aim for, and a combination of the cramps pain and the punches pain mix together and leave him gasping, desperately wanting to grab at his stomach in agony.

He tries once more to break free, but the grip tightens.

Another one, or maybe the same one, he isn’t sure, comes closer, something in his hands. He grabs Keith’s wrists and, despite the arms encircling him and pinning them down, he pulls them together and wraps something around them, making them immobile.

“I’ve changed my mind,” The first one murmurs. Keith glares at where he thinks he sees a dark figure. “Put her down. We’ll fuck her now and beat her later.”

Panic claws up his throat, but he swallows it down, hopefully keeping up a straight face.

“Or, you could always just let me go-“

They shove something dirty and gross into his mouth, effectively cutting him off. He goes to spit it out, but one ties something around his lips and wraps it around his head, twice. He glares daggers as the one who tied him up back away.

When the one who was restraining him lets him go, he takes a second to stand straight, and runs.

He manages to pass by the first three, but the fourth one, the first one, the one who caused all of this, catches him, wrapping an arm painfully tight around his waist and pulling him close.

His breath smells of alcohol as he speaks, but not as bad as Rolo’s; a sign this man’s only tipsy, or just had a drink or two. “This could’ve been painless, beautiful.”

 _Fuck you,_ he thinks, unable to vocalize it. He feels saliva dribble from the corner of his forced-open mouth, cringing at the dirty thing in his mouth.

He gets shoved to the ground by the one holding him, landing on harsh concrete instead of a puddle of mud.

A pair of hands force him down by the shoulders as he sits up, and another grabs his already unbuttoned pants and pulls them down. He shakes his head, kicking at where the man is crouching in between his legs.

“Oh,” The first man says, bending over and lightly dragging his finger down his inner thigh. Keith feels a shiver travel up his spine, unwarranted tears gather in his narrowed eyes. “You really are a girl, aren’t you?”

He tries to say no, because he’s not, _he’s not,_ but he can’t form words around whatever they shoved into his mouth and the gag.

“This will make things even more fun,” he laughs, pulling up Keith’s shirt. He lightly trails his fingers down Keith’s stomach, eliciting a shiver he can’t contain. Blood from his thighs stain the parts he touched. “Maybe I can get you pregnant, darling.”

His eyes widen.

“Take off her underwear,” he orders to one, standing up straight and starting to unbutton his own pants. This time, panic manages to get free in the form of thrashing underneath the hands holding him down.

He kicks out as hands get to his boxer briefs, poised to pull them down, and lands a solid kick into his chest, and he falls back with a grunt. Another one forces his legs down as they kick out, with a hand on each ankle.

The one he kicked gets back up, digging his fingers into the skin underneath his boxer briefs. He curls them upwards, into the fabric, and pulls-

A loud hiss startles Keith, just as a blur of orange jumps onto the face of the one pulling Keith’s clothes off. The man shouts in pain, hands shooting up to his face where the ginger cat from before had landed and clung.

The man screams, landing on the concrete beside Keith’s thigh and kicking it in his thrashing. Keith grunts, but takes the moment of surprise to kick out at the man holding down his ankles-

“You bitch!” Number one shouts, pants pooling around his ankles. He crouches in between Keith’s forced open legs, and frees his abnormally large dick from it’s confines. Keith flinches, terror claiming him. His first time isn’t going to be with Lance, or anyone he loves, when he’s ready, like they’d planned, but with someone he doesn’t know, who’s forcing him in an alleyway beside a club, while Keith’s mind is too muddled with fear to respond properly and fight.

Every breath, he realizes, is much too short and much too fast, sharp and through his nose. He shakes his head frantically, writhing in the grips holding him down.

He vaguely realizes that the man is still fighting with the cat that, he thinks, was trying to help Keith.

Number one pulls down his wet boxer briefs without a care for the blood that’s getting on his fingers, and stares down at his bloody, fucking hairless, vagina with lust in his eyes.

He trails his fingers above it, lightly pinching his skin every few inches that he passes.

Number one pulls his hand back and strokes his already half hard-

_No, no, no-_

“Hey!” Someone yells from the sidewalk. Number one hardly spares them a glance, too focused on stroking himself. “Get off him!”

With a start, he realizes who’s talking, recognizes that voice, would recognize it anywhere.

It’s Lance.

“It’s a she,” Number one corrects, rubbing Keith’s thigh. Keith flinches, eyes squeezed shut. He tries again to get free, but the hands hold him tighter. “And she wants this.”

“ _He_ does not fucking want this!” Lance shouts, loud and fast footsteps echoing through the alley. The man holding down his legs is shoved off, and the cat from before attacks the one holding down his shoulders, apparently finished with the one it originally attacked.

The one Lance attacked seems to have fallen unconscious in the fall, laying in a still heap on the hard concrete.

Number one’s, the one between his legs, eyes widen in fear as Lance grabs him by the collar of his shirt and drags him up. Keith manages to push himself up, dragging himself away from Number one, but watching his boyfriend scare them with a mix of awe, fascination, and pride.

“You’re going to leave,” Lance hisses, fist raised threateningly, glaring down at Number One, who was quivering in fear beneath him. Keith allows a smile to come to his face, knowing it was his boyfriend, the man he loves, that caused this. “And you’re never going to bother my _boyfriend_ ,” Number one audibly swallows. “Again. Got it?”

“It’s a she,” Number One mutters.

Lance’s face darkens. “What was that?”

“I said,” Number one smirks, causing Lance’s glare to darken further, his grip to grow tighter. Keith swallows thickly, trying to pull up his underwear with the zip tie still restraining his wrists. He tries pulling at them, but the plastic digs into his skin instead of breaking, like he had hoped. “It’s. A. She.”

Lance punches Number One hard enough to knock him out.

Lance drops the limp body, uncaring of how he lands, and looks around quickly, at the other unconscious bodies and the cat that’s coming over to Keith.

As Lance walks closer, worry and concern clear in his eyes, Keith averts his tear-filled eyes, and drags his knees up to his stomach, trying to cover his parts so Lance won’t see, even though he knows it’s useless and Lance will end up seeing it anyways.

He squeezes his eyes shut as Lance comes closer, willing himself not to start crying, and trying to calm his breathing so he won’t pass out.

It proves to be useless, though, as he feels burning hot tears trail down his cheeks through the corners of his eyes, and hears his breathing become much faster.

“Keith, Keith, hey,” Lance’s voice is soothing as it becomes louder. A warm hand cups his cheek, earning a small flinch, brushing away tears that won’t stop falling. Keith sniffles when his nose starts to run, allowing himself to lean into the familiarity of Lance’s hand. “You’re safe, you’re okay, I’ve got you.”

That only makes Keith cry harder, a strangled, muffled sob escaping his throat.

“I’m here, I’m here,” Lance says quietly, moving his hands to the back of his head, where the fabric was tied into a knot. Lance makes quick work of it, untying it in seconds and unraveling it from around his head. Keith wastes no time in spitting out whatever they shoved into his mouth as soon as the gag is off, spitting a few times to get rid of the taste that’s made a home on his tongue.

He coughs and splutters, gathering saliva and particles of dirt in his mouth, and spitting out whatever he managed to gather.

He grimaces as he swallows, feeling his stomach roll uncomfortably. With a final cough, spitting out whatever remnants are left, he peels his wet eyes open, tears finally starting to dry.

“Lan-Lance, I- my-“ He sucks in a shaky breath, blinking back more tears. He raises his restrained fists to his face, biting at the zip tie to pull it off. “I- my- my pants, j-just-“

“I’ve got it,” Lance says quietly, grabbing the waistband of his boxer briefs. “Can you stand up for me?” He asks, rubbing his side softly.

Keith shivers beneath his touch, letting his eyes flutter closed. He swallows thickly and nods.

He lets Lance help him to shaky legs, still pulling at the zip tie around his wrists with his teeth.

Lance pulls the boxers as far up as they can go, but leaves the pants where they are, pooling around his ankles. Lance’s smile is watery as he gently grabs Keith’s wrists and pulls them away from his mouth, undoing the zip tie for him.

“Thank you,” Keith breathes, sniffling. He rubs at the reddened skin, hissing when it stings from the touch.

“Do you want to keep your pants on-“

“What the fuck, why wouldn’t I-“

“Or do you wanna borrow my jacket until we get the car?”

“Oh.”

“You can keep your pants on and use the jacket, whatever fancies your tickle.”

“Other way around,” Keith lets a small smile slip through, cheeks stiff from dried tears. “And, uh, I think I’d prefer to go with pants right now.”

“Alright,” Lance says, smiling. “Let’s go home, okay? I’ll give you my pants at the car.”

Keith bites his lip, averting Lance’s eyes. It’s Pidge’s birthday, they came here for her, they can’t just leave. “We… It’s Pidge’s birthday, though.”

“She’ll understand, babe-“

“We- no, no,” Keith feels tears threatening to escape again as he tries to swallow the lump in his throat. “I- I’m not telling anyone, Lance, I-“

“Don’t you want them arrested?” Lance asks, frowning.

“Of- of course I do! But I- I can’t-“

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Lance cups his cheeks, brushing his thumbs underneath Keith’s eyes and smearing around something wet. He’s crying, he realizes as he sniffles, lightly wrapping his fingers around Lance’s wrist. He leans his cheek into Lance’s palm, letting his eyes flutter shut. “We don’t have to tell anyone, okay? If you don’t want to, we- I won’t.”

Keith only nods.

“Let’s go home, okay?” Lance removes his hand from Keith’s face, wrapping it around his shoulders instead. Keith leans into his side, wrapping his arms protectively around his stomach, which is still cramping hard. “I’ll text Hunk saying you weren’t feeling good, or something. I doubt Pidge’s notice anyways; The last time I saw her she had twenty one shots in front of her.”

“Yeah,” Keith says, shakily, taking one hand off of his stomach to hold the hand Lance has on Keith’s shoulders. Lance squeezes it lightly, pulling him closer. “She looked smashed when I saw her.”

He feels Lance nod, hears him let out a shrill of laughter that sounds like a meow-

“Wait,” Keith stops walking, craning his neck to try and see behind him, in the dark alleyway that they’ve almost left.

“What is it?” Lance asks, tilting his head down at Keith.

Keith ignores him, gently prying himself from Lance’s grip and turning around. “Do you have a flashlight?” He asks, squinting his eyes to try and see in the pitch black.

“Uh, yeah,” He hears Lance fish for his phone in his pocket, alongside the jingling of car keys, then the alleyway lights up and Keith gets a better view to find the cat who had tried to protect him. “What are you looking for?”

“A cat,” He responds casually, taking another step into the alley. He hears the cat scratching something, but he can’t see them, not yet. He steps closer to a dumpster, seeing a hole in the side of it. He frowns and opens the dumpster, but it’s pitch black and he can’t see if the cat’s in there or not. He shoves his hand into his pocket to grab his phone, but comes up empty- “Oh, and my phone.”

He hears Lance sigh. “I’ll find your phone,” he mutters, and then there are footsteps behind him and a skittering noise-

Keith whips around as Lance shrieks and falls to his ass in a small pile of snow, eyes blown wide.

He raises his fists and jumps forward to defend Lance, glaring menacingly down at-

The cat.

A laugh bursts out of him, and he, too, lands on his ass beside Lance, mirth gathering in the corner of his eyes.

“What’s so funny?!” Lance demands, face blurry as he glares. He only laughs harder, hysteria starting to claim him. That cat- That cat saved him. If that Cat hadn’t have attacked the man the first time, there wouldn’t have been a delay that gave Lance time to find him, and there would have already been a dick-

He sobs, still smiling, tears streaming down his face.

If that cat hadn’t have attacked the second time, Lance would’ve been outnumbered, even fueled by anger- no, fury, and adrenaline, and then they’d either both be fucked or Lance would be held down and forced to watch Keith be fucked- raped.

That cat saved him from- from-

_He was almost raped._

“I want to keep them,” Keith says through his sobs, rubbing away tears that won’t stop coming. “They- the cat saved me, Lance, i-intentional or not.”

Warm arms wrap around his shoulder and pull him into an even warmer body, hugging him.

“Baby,” Lance whispers, carding his fingers through Keith’s hair as he wails, fingers clenched tightly in Lance’s shirt. “Let’s go home, okay? You need some TLC- tender loving care, you hermit,” Keith closes his mouth, a laugh that sounds more like a whimper escaping him. “I found your phone, but I’m not stopping for cat stuff tonight and tonight’s really not the night to have company.

“We’ll come by in the morning. If they’re still here, we’ll take them home, okay?”

“No,” Keith whispers, unable to stop himself from quivering. “No, no, I can’t come back here again.”

Lance’s fingers slow to a stop, but remain in his dirty hair. Keith suppresses an undignified whine.

Humming, Lance rests his head on Keith’s. “Fine. I’ve always wanted a cat, anyways,” Keith smiles, tears slowly dripping off his chin. “But we’re going out to buy them stuff tomorrow, okay? You’re not going to any classes tomorrow.”

“God, fine, _mom_.”

“I’m your daddy, get it right.”

He laughs.

* * *

 

Keith lazily peels his eyes open, emerging from a heavy slumber that’s desperately grabbing at his muddled brain with dark claws. It tries to pull him back under as he yawns, pressing his cheek into the comfortable body beneath him. He hums, leaning his head into the hand that’s slowly carding fingers through his hair.

Keith smiles as Lance snores, chest moving up and down, moving Keith with it. Lance pulls him closer in his sleep, fingers slowly going through the tangles.

He sighs in content, gently flailing his arm and patting Lance’s stomach to find the cat that laid there after they bathed her, washing off the blood on her claws and in her fur. Lance protested as she settled down there, but ended up falling asleep petting her.

The ball of fur is still there, curled up on Lance’s stomach and sleeping peacefully. He lays his palm on top of her slowly moving chest, soft fur tickling the inside of his hand.

A spike of fear shoots through him as the fingers in his hair tighten (a brief reminder of last night, when they gagged him), but he relaxes, knowing that Lance would never do something like that without permission.

He lets his eyes flutter shut and sleep drag him away, knowing he’s safe with two guardian angels watching over him.

 

**Author's Note:**

> hey!! okay, to clear some things up, keith has always been on the manlier side, he just can’t afford the testosterone stuff  
> the cat is the red lion and was protecting him yes
> 
> feedback is greatly appreciated!! (so,, r kudos,, but u don’t have to,,,)
> 
> also y’all deserved a happy ending for once in my fics so here you go
> 
> hope you enjoyed!!!


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